


Stakeout

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: The Ambush series [8]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Smut, nothing else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Robin brings coffee with an added extra to keep Strike warm on a stakeout.





	Stakeout

**Author's Note:**

> There is no plot here. If smut is not your thing, maybe skip this one ;)

10pm. Robin found the entrance to the side alley. She glanced about to make sure she wasn’t being observed, and slipped into the cool darkness. She made her way quietly down the edge of the building. It was very dark, but she wasn’t nervous. She knew Strike was down here somewhere.

She saw the glow of his cigarette, smelled the smoke, before she saw him. She approached, padding quietly in her trainers, but she knew he’d seen her. He was too observant. He stepped forward from the doorway he’d been lurking in. He’d found a good vantage point, a fire exit from the offices opposite the side of the hotel that was deep enough to conceal him and didn’t look as though it had been used for years.

“Hi,” she said, softly. “I brought coffee. Any developments?”

“Nope,” he said, quiet also. “She arrived first, he went in about half an hour ago. Don’t expect anyone to come out for at least an hour.”

Robin glanced along to the discreet side entrance to the hotel. Their targets clearly knew someone on the inside and had got access to the side door. It was proving very successful for them. Last time they’d left together, but with no body language to suggest an affair. Strike was hopeful to catch a snap of a kiss or similar to prove it, but lurking in the alley twice a week was proving very boring. He wouldn’t let Robin do this job, too much hanging around in the dark required. But her delivery of coffee was very welcome. She pulled a flask from her backpack and poured him a mug. He dropped his cigarette end into the gutter and took the coffee, smiling softly at her in the shadows.

Strike took a gulp from the steaming mug and then raised an eyebrow at Robin as the taste rolled over his tongue. She giggled quietly. “I added a bit of oomph,” she said. He grinned. “About half a bottle, by the taste of it!” he said. “This’ll warm me up.”

She winked at him, took his coffee and put it on the ground next to them. “I’ll warm you up if you like,” she said suggestively, straightening up and sliding her arms around him beneath his coat. He smiled down at her and kissed her, coffee and whisky on his breath.

Robin hummed and pressed closer, her mouth opening to his, deepening the kiss. He kissed her back, and for several minutes no more was said. Eventually Robin broke away, breathless and grinning. “Oh, I wish I could just take you home,” she said. She nuzzled into his chest and he buried his face in her hair. They sighed against one another, content.

Footsteps passed the end of the alley and they shrank back into the doorway. Strike shielded her with the dark hulk of his coat, his head dropped to her shoulder, eyes watching the entrance to the street. Robin found herself backed right up into the corner, the door behind her, Strike’s bulk pressed against her. A thrill of desire ran up her spine and her mouth sought his again. Heat swept through her as he kissed her again and she moaned softly against his mouth.

Strike pulled back, desire in his eyes, and smiled down at her. “Only a couple of hours and I’ll be home,” he said. They were practically living in his tiny flat now, though most of Robin’s stuff remained at her flat with Angela.

“Mm, maybe I can’t wait that long,” she murmured, her hands sliding up under his shirt and around his back. He dropped his head to her shoulder again with a sharp intake of breath as she drew her nails gently across his heated skin. She took the opportunity to trail kisses up his neck to his ear, feeling him shiver against her. She felt the stirring in his groin where he was pressed against her, her own arousal pulsing in answer. She bit gently at his earlobe and he made a small sound in the back of his throat.

“Robin, what are you doing?” Strike asked softly, pulling back a little to look at her, desire darkening his gaze. Her eyes twinkled up at him, wickedly teasing.

“Wondering how far you’ll let me go in a public place,” she answered, and drew her nails across his back again. Strike groaned, arousal rising within him. He slid one of his thighs between hers, pressing her back against the door again. She felt his erection against her hip and shivered. She’d only been intending to fool around a little, but now desire, urgent and strong, coiled within her. She pulled his head back down and kissed him hard, hungry.

They kissed and kissed, heat building. Her hips rocked against his and she felt his erection pulse against her. He growled a little, deep in his throat, his tongue thrusting against hers. She slid one hand down from the back of his neck, sliding it between them, down over his shirt to his groin to find him and caress and squeeze him through his trousers. Strike broke away from her with a groan. “Robin...” he said in a strangled voice. “Stop...”

“I don’t want to,” she whispered, her eyes dark with arousal as she gazed up at him. She was so turned on suddenly, it reminded her of the heady early days of their relationship. She gently squeezed him again, her eyes holding his, and he moaned and buried his face in her neck. His hands pulled roughly at her top, tugging it from the waistband of her skirt, sliding up inside to stroke her breasts. His fingers pinched at her nipples through her bra, not gentle. She gasped, her head dropping back.

“Fuck, Cormoran,” she hissed, her hips thrusting forward of their own volition. He groaned against her neck. “You started it,” he said, hoarsely. He pushed his hips to hers, pressing her back against the door once again, and the muscles in her groin clenched involuntarily at the feel of his erection straining against her. She gave a shaky moan of need, shuddering against him.

Strike lifted his head a little to look at her and she gazed back at him. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one hand down to her thigh and up under her skirt. His fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh, nails scraping against the fabric of her tights. Another shudder ran through her and her head dropped forward onto his chest.

His hand slid higher, fingertips brushing briefly over her mound and up further to the waistband of her tights. “Robin,” he whispered hoarsely. “Look at me.”

With an effort she raised her head again and met his eyes as he pulled at her tights and slid his hand down inside. He watched her, watching the desire and excitement in her eyes as he slid lower. The tips of his fingers found the top of her knickers and slid inside them too. His eyes were black in the dark alley, glittering hard now as he held her gaze, his hand pushing roughly down into her knickers. He grunted with satisfaction at the wetness he found there. His fingers explored and teased, and she whimpered with desire as they slid along her slick folds. Then his eyes were boring into hers as he thrust two fingers into her.

Robin’s knees buckled with desire and pleasure, but his other arm slid around her back, holding her up. He leaned her back against the door, never breaking her gaze, and slid his hand against her, his fingers withdrawing and thrusting again. She whimpered, unable to speak, unable to break his stare, pinned by his eyes and fingers. Nothing else existed.

“Is that what you want, Robin?” he asked, his voice rough. “Is it?” She was falling into the abyss of his eyes, melting in the heat of her desire, boneless and shaking. “Yes,” she managed. “Fuck, yes.” He thrust his hand against her, his fingers inside her and his palm rubbing her clit. Robin couldn’t breathe, the pressure within her too great to bear, and still heheld her gaze in the dim light, refusing to let her look away or close her eyes, his fingers working deftly. Heat writhed and coiled within her, pressure building, threatening to break.

Abruptly he pulled his hand away, and she cried out at the loss of him, arousal burning deep within her, begging for release. “Shh,” he whispered, glancing up the alley. “Take your tights off.” He was undoing his belt with fumbling hands.

“Cormoran...” for a moment, shyness overcame desire, but then she caught the searing heat in his gaze and she was lost again. Trembling, shaking, she kicked off one trainer with the other foot and bent to drag her tights and knickers down and off her leg. Half ashamed and half unspeakably aroused, she shrank back into the doorway. Strike pressed closer, his trousers and boxers down over his backside but his bulk and his big coat shielding them both. He pushed her skirt up out of the way. His hand gripped her naked thigh, fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her leg up to gain access. His other hand cupped her arse and he bodily lifted her up and thrust into her in one smooth movement. He was hard as iron and she gave a strangled gasp, trying not to cry out again.

He leaned back a little, watching her again in the gloom as he thrust her against the door. The reflected streetlights from the road gave just enough light for him to see her, to know her arousal and pleasure. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, his neck, his hair as he pushed her into the door again and again. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he strained into her, his hips flexing against her, driving deeper, his fingers gripping the flesh of her thigh and bottom.

Footsteps passed the end of the alley again as he panted against her, and instead of shame now, Robin felt only fierce arousal. Their breath mingled, gasps and soft sounds, straining for quiet against a storm of pleasure. His hand on her thigh slid around between them, his thumb brushing over her clit, and suddenly it was too much as he thrust into her again. Her orgasm broke in waves, her head back against the door, her muscles clenching around him as she gasped and sobbed. He pressed his whole body against her now, burying his head in her neck and hair, and in a few more fierce thrusts he came, pulsing and spilling into her, groaning into her ear.

There was a panting, shuddering quiet for a few moments. Then Strike slowly withdrew, lowering Robin back to her feet. She was shaking, her breath still uneven, sated and glowing and embarrassed. “Fuck, Cormoran,” she whispered. “That was... fuck.”

He rumbled a laugh, pulling his boxers and trousers back up. “God, wasn’t it just,” he said, grinning. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her, deeply and languorously. Robin wrapped her arms around his head, her tongue twining with his, aftershocks of pleasure running through her.

Eventually Robin pulled reluctantly away. She bent to untangle her tights and pull them back on. She giggled. “You’ve kicked your coffee over,” she said. “Good thing I brought plenty.”

 

 

 


End file.
